


What's an Unsub?

by Sylar (FanficbyLee)



Category: Criminal Minds, Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficbyLee/pseuds/Sylar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>headSylar forces Parkman's hand, using him in a string of murders that the BAU comes to investigate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

Bright sunlight filtered through the frosted windows of the squad room, making it uncomfortably warm. Matt Parkman sank down into one of the vacant seats. He was late. He worked vice, but he’d been called in along with most of the detectives to hear the profile on the serial killer. 

The Behavioral Analysis Unit from the FBI wanted Vice and Homicide’s input on the case. Their Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner, was telling them all that lack of interdepartmental cooperation was a good way to let the UNSUB, as they called him, slip through the cracks. 

“UNSUB …” Parkman snorted, casting a glance over at his partner, Mike, who was reading through a folder the BAU Media Liaison, Jennifer Jareau, had given out. “What the hell is that?” 

“The UNSUB,” said a tall black man, that Parkman was pretty sure did swimsuit modeling when he was off the clock. “Is the Unknown Subject.” 

“Isn’t that pretentious?” Sylar popped in, leaning on the edge of the next desk. He held up a pair of fingers behind the FBI agent’s head like rabbit ears. “Would you look at this guy? Janice would be all over him.” 

Parkman’s lips narrowed into a thin line, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping at his unwelcome imaginary friend. 

“The UNSUB,” Hotchner began, unlike agent Beefcake; this one looked like a lawyer. “Is a Caucasian male. He is in his early 40s. From shoe impressions at the crime scenes he is between 240 and 300 pounds.”

“Damn that’s a big one,” Sylar snorted, turning to give Hotchner his complete attention. “It’s a wonder the victim didn’t hear him lumbering up behind them, puddles vibrating like the t-rex in Jurassic Park.” 

“Shut up,” Parkman mumbled, trying to keep his voice as low as he could, but the perky blonde liaison glanced his way with a sweet smile. “Not you,” he mouthed with no sound. 

A skinny kid with longish unruly hair stepped forward, a remote in his hand that started a slide show of one brutal murder after another. “The first two victims, as you know, were bludgeoned in their homes. They showed no sign of defensive wounds. We believe the UNSUB may be in a position of authority or presenting himself as one to gain the victims’ trust. There was no sign of forced entry. They let the UNSUB in.” 

“Well that was pretty stupid, don’t you think, Matt?” Sylar leaned over the back of Parkman’s chair, pushing on the back of it, forcing Parkman to scramble and lean forward to keep from going over backward. “Knock, knock, who’s there? Serial killer…. Serial killer who?... Serial killer who’s going to bash your skull in… Bless you, please come in for tea.” 

Parkman’s fist tightened until the pen he was holding snapped, smearing black ink all over his fingers. Swearing he grabbed a wad of napkins out of his pocket. With little Matt around, he was always prepared with something to clean up a mess. Looking at the wad of crumpled paper he noticed a bright reddish brown stain on one corner.

“Is that blood, Parkman?” Sylar whispered near his ear. “Or barbeque sauce. With you it’s hard to tell. I mean what the fuck is that on your tie?” 

Parkman looked away from the screen down to his tie, checking for a spot that wasn’t there. “Asshole.” 

“Made you look.” Sylar snorted and let go of the chair, stepping back and started pacing like a caged tiger. 

“The third victim would have been nearly impossible to ID if he hadn’t been found in his own home,” said the swimsuit model. Parkman caught his name this time, Derek Morgan. “The brutality was off the chart compared to the first two, and speaks of a personal relationship between the UNSUB and the victim. You’ll notice the amount of blood spray on the walls and ceiling.” 

“Damn that was some fine work,” Sylar said, walking up to the screen, tracing the blood spray with fingers that no one but Parkman could see. “Personal you say? As if they knew each other. Why that’s even more telling than the UNSUB being someone in authority. What do you think, Parkman?” 

“Go away,” Parkman said from between clenched teeth, his anger starting to make him sweat in the stuffy room. His words drew the attention of a few of the BAU team. 

Sylar laughed.

“Is there a problem?” The skinny kid, Dr. Spenser Reid asked.

“Um, no, sorry,” Parkman mumbled while several of his fellow cops snickered.

“The fourth and fifth victims, on the other hand returned to the same level of violence as the first two victims,” Morgan finished.

“Does that mean the third victim isn’t related to the other four?” Mike asked, holding up his hand like he was in school. Parkman wished he’d asked the question, but with the trouble Sylar was causing him, he had enough attention. They were profiling a serial killer and didn’t need to know about the one mocking him.

“We thought that too, as did your forensic team,” Reid answered. “But the shoe prints are the same as in the other four killings. There are no fingerprints, and the murder weapon, which forensics had determined was a crowbar has not been found.” 

“Oh a crowbar, Parkman, I like those. They’ve got great reach and balance. Nearly as much fun as a baseball bat.” Sylar smiled over at him and paced back across the room. “I wonder what the motive was. Don’t you? Don’t you hate it when I’m talking to you in a room full of people, and you can’t answer without looking fucking nuts? Personally I love it.” 

Parkman let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The headache Sylar was giving him making his ears ring. He wanted out of the meeting. He wanted to go home to Janice and Matty. He didn’t care about this. There was no way the BAU would let LAPD catch the guy anyway. Feds don’t share collars.

“This is a waste of time,” he mumbled as he tucked the inky napkins back into his pocket.

“Did you have a question?” Dr. Reid asked, unable to ignore another of Parkman’s interruptions. 

“Um, yeah, um…I’m with Vice and didn’t get a folder. What are the victim’s names, and hasn’t anyone found a link between them?”

“Good question, Parkman!” Sylar clapped, and gave him a double thumbs up. “Now you sound like a real cop instead of just a donut muncher. Way to go. You’ll get a promotion at this rate. Janice would be so proud, and hell so would I.”

“Oh I’m sorry.” Dr. Reid turned to Jareau to have her give Parkman a folder. 

“The BAU had assumed you’d been informed of the victim’s names,” Hotchner quietly informed the assembled cops, casting a dark look at the LAPD Captain. “We thought we were all on the same page.” 

“Never assume,” Sylar snorted. “Makes an ass out of you and me.” 

“One of the reasons we asked to combine forces on this case was the hope that between Vice and Homicide that you would be able to find a link between the victims,” Morgan added. 

Sylar smiled and hopped onto the edge of the desk near Parkman again, his feet drumming on the metal loud enough to wake the dead. “These people are a team. Look at them finishing each other’s sentences and thoughts. We’ll be like that soon too if you don’t get me my body back. Won’t that be great? I’m so looking forward to it.” 

Jareau, came over to Parkman and handed him a folder. “I’m sorry Detective, here’s a package we’ve compiled. I’m sorry we missed you. I’m JJ.” 

“That’s not your fault,” Sylar told her, grinning ear to ear, not that she could hear him. “Parkman was late as usual. Can I tell you how annoying that is? I hate being late.” 

“Do you need me to read that for you, Matt? I know you have problems.” Sylar leaned over his shoulder again, and Parkman could swear he smelled blood on the killer’s breath. 

Parkman was sure his teeth were about to shatter as he ground them together to keep his mouth shut. He pasted on a smile for the agent. “Thanks, I’ll read through this. I was late. It was my fault.” 

“Yes it was,” Sylar snarked again. “Me, I’m never late. Always, always know what time it is, or I did when I was in my body. Where is it by the way, Parkman?” 

“Don’t worry so much,” JJ gave him a sweet smile. “You can look at it while we finish the profile.” 

Sylar waited tapping his fingers on Parkman’s shoulders as he opened the folder. He didn’t read the names. The stress was making the letters swim, and he couldn’t fight through his dyslexia to put them into the right order. He took out the victim’s pictures, leafing through them to see if he recognized any of them. The first one seemed a bit familiar, and he thought he might have busted the guy back when he was in uniform but he couldn’t be sure. It was the third face that made him nearly drop the packet. 

“Roy?” Parkman’s eyes grew wide as he looked at the face of the water delivery boy and then the bloody mess that had once been him on the floor of the kid’s apartment. “Jesus, I knew this guy. He delivered water to my house.” 

“Shhh, Parkman,” Sylar said in a hushed voice. “You might want to keep that down, Matt.” 

“What why?” He almost stuttered as he looked up into Sylar’s black gaze. 

“Because you’re the UNSUB, buddy. We killed them together. The first two were to throw them off track, and because it was fun. But Roy, you hated that little fucker for boning Janice. He screamed like a woman in case you were wondering.” Sylar licked his lips and chuckled. “I bet if you look really hard, deep inside that you can call up the memory of them all. So much blood on your hands, good thing I had you wear gloves and burn your clothes.” 

“You, son of a bitch,” Parkman snapped, drawing the attention of the BAU and the other cops. “Sorry, Roy was a good kid. He helped my wife out a lot when we were separated.”

“And you killed him for it. Murderer.” Sylar started laughing hard. “Want to know who number six is? They haven’t found him yet. It’s your old buddy, Tom. You know the dick who put his dick in your wife. They’ll know it’s you when they find him.” 

Parkman’s chest started to hurt, spots flitting in front of his eyes, and he had to hold onto the desk to keep from blacking out. Getting up he excused himself. “I’m sorry. I need some fresh air.” 

Sylar waited while Parkman drank from the water fountain, wiping off his lips with the back of his hand. “You ready to make a deal now, Parkman? I make sure they never find Tom, and you get me my body.” 

“How are you going to do that?” Parkman demanded. He was too agitated to care that someone might hear him talking to empty air. 

“Let me rephrase that, you help me find my body, or I help them find Tom’s. I can make you find it for them. You’ll look like a hero until they realize the link to Janice.” 

“I fucking hate you.” 

“Feeling’s mutual, partner. So deal or no deal?” 

“Deal.” 

“Deal?” Morgan asked as he stepped up behind Parkman. “Are you all right, Detective?” 

“Yeah, I’m OK. Making a deal with Roy’s ghost to find his killer is all.”

“And lying through your teeth,” Sylar said, as always getting in the last word.


	2. 2

Parkman didn’t feel good. His stomach felt like the world’s largest rubber band ball. He wanted to put down the window to get some fresh air, but the buttons in the backseat of the Fed’s SUV didn’t work. He couldn’t unlock the door either.

“Get used to it, buddy,” Sylar said with a bright smile as he leaned over to play with the buttons on Parkman’s door. “It’ll be just like this when they bring you in for the murders. Of course they’ll have you in handcuffs too, and god wouldn’t it be cool if they put you in leg irons too? Can’t wait to see it.” 

“You’ll be stuck with me, asshole,” it came out in a whisper as Parkman ducked his face, holding his cell phone to his ear, pretending he was having a conversation with a real person. It worked pretty well at the station so far, but he knew sooner or later someone would notice the phone wasn’t calling out. He hoped like hell Dr. Reid and SSA Morgan weren’t the ones to notice.

“And the difference between that and now would be? Oh I know! No diaper changes at two, three and four am. Yeah that would be a big loss. Of course I’d miss Janice. She’s so very affectionate when you’re asleep. Did I tell you about the b…” 

“Shut up!” Parkman snapped the phone shut, his hands shaking as he caught the concerned looks from Morgan in the rearview. 

“Couldn’t these Feds be like the typical lazy ass FBI agents you’re used to, Parkman? Remember Hansen? She was a moron, thinking Ted was me.” 

“I’m having some trouble at home.” He left it at that, slipping the phone back in his pocket, and slid down in his seat. He didn’t want to go to the crime scene. He was terrified he’d leave a footprint that matched the ones already at the scene. Knowing that Sylar had been killing people while he was asleep terrified him. 

“You know, Matthew, it’s pretty shitty of you to blame your problems on Janice. She’s trying to be a good wife to you, and you’re such a loser as a husband. What’s sad is that I’ve never had a real relationship in my life, but I would have been a better husband than you are.” 

“Sorry to hear about that, Detective,” Morgan said his mouth curling into a small sad smile. “The life is hard on marriages.” 

Sylar sat in silence for the rest of the drive, ignoring Parkman which made the lump in the cop’s stomach twist more. He hated the helplessness. All Parkman wanted to do was live a happy life and to help people. 

Morgan parked the SUV with the front wheels up on the curb and the backend out in the street. He and Reid slipped off their seatbelts and dropped out of the car. Parkman unhooked his belt, grateful to finally be free of the vehicles confines when his door unlocked. He wanted to drink in gulps of fresh air and kiss the ground at his feet. He’d never been claustrophobic, but the longer the serial killer was in his head the worse all his subtle phobias were getting. 

Parkman glanced around the area. He’d never been to the house, but there was a nagging little piece of his mind that knew he had been there. Sylar was right. If he thought about it hard enough, he’d break through the wall between their memories, and he’d be able to see what his body had done while he wasn’t running the show. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small bottle of aspirin and popped a trio of them into his mouth and dry swallowed them. 

“Headache, detective?” Reid asked, looking up from investigating a footprint that had been marked with a bright yellow marker as evidence. 

“Yeah, it’s my blood pressure. I get some really bad ones.” Parkman nearly choked on the caffeine pills he’d just taken from the Excedrin bottle. “Especially when it’s hot.” 

“And I’ve been fucking with you so much.” Sylar leaned over the scrawny kid. “I like this one. If I was in my body, I bet we could have some great conversations. He’d be much better company than you are, Parkman. Did you see how fast he can read? All the information that must be swimming around in his head, I wonder if he’s one of us.” 

“You would wonder that wouldn’t you,” Parkman mumbled while Morgan and Reid discussed the evidence. “You’d love nothing better than to rip his head open and go dumpster diving in his brain.” 

“No, not really. I would enjoy having someone intelligent to talk to for a change. I’m quite brilliant when I’m not constricted by your brain’s limitations. Being stuck in you is like trying to drive a skateboard when you’re used to driving the Space Shuttle.” Sylar stepped closer to Parkman, his lips right against his ear then shouted. “It sucks!”

When Parkman jumped, Sylar snickered and sauntered off to explore more of his handy work. “Parkman, tell them to come over here. They missed a spot!” 

“Is there something over there, Detective Parkman?” Morgan asked, noticing Parkman’s attention and tapped Reid on the shoulder. 

“I thought I saw something in the bushes.” Like an imaginary serial killer who is using my body to kill people and set me up.

“I’ll be right over here while you get fitted for the extra, extra, extra large straitjacket, Parkman,” Sylar said with a shit eating grin.

“What is that?” Morgan asked as Reid pulled a scrap of paper out of the dead and dying rose bushes that filled the bed under the living room window of Roy’s house. 

Reid held the paper to his nose and wrinkled it. “I think it’s a baby wipe. As far as we know the victim didn’t have a child. There are more footprints too. Morgan, this might be from the UNSUB. He might have a kid.” 

“I know it’s disgusting to ask, but is it used?” Morgan looked disgusted as he held an evidence bag for Reid to carefully bag the baby wipe. “We could get DNA off it if it is.” 

“Son of a bitch,” Parkman said, feeling the world close in around him. 

“How about that, Parkman?” Sylar asked, sitting on the steps of the house with his long legs stretched out before him. “Didn’t you and Janice have DNA run on Matty to prove his paternity, and the cops have you on file anyway, right?” 

“Yeah, Derek,” Reid said with a grin of his own. “It looks like it’s used. We might have the UNSUB’s DNA.”

Parkman’s vision sparkled, spots floating before his eyes. He hit the ground hard. He came too with an oxygen mask pressed over his face and found a paramedic looking down at him with concern filled eyes. 

“He’s awake,” the paramedic called out to the FBI agents, and Morgan came over. 

“Parkman, you gave us quite a scare. Reid thought you might be having a heart attack.” 

“No, I’m fine,” Sylar said, in complete control of Parkman’s body. “The heat got to me. I really need to lose a few dozen pounds.” He tried to sit up, but found himself strapped to the gurney. “I’m fine. You can let me go.” 

“We should take you in, Detective,” the EMT insisted. “You had an episode.” 

“What I have is an 18 month old at home, high blood pressure, and a job that makes me wear a suit and tie when it’s in the 90s.” He touched Parkman’s power and pushed his will on the EMT. “You want to let me go. I’m fine. You don’t even have to file a report.” 

“God dammit!” Parkman swore at the guy. “Don’t listen to him. Stop using my power you, son of a bitch!” 

The paramedic looked at Morgan and Reid, then over at his partner. “He’s fine. I’m going to cut you loose, but be sure to see your doctor, Detective. You’re obviously exhausted, and you’ve got a little boy who needs his father.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been a complete moron.” Sylar kept the shit eating grin off his face when they let him go. He dusted off his clothes, rolled his sleeves down, and stripped off his tie. He waited beside Reid and Morgan while the paramedics closed us shop. “I really appreciate this guys. My wife would kill me, and we can’t afford for me to be off work. We just got back together, and things are still a little fragile.” 

“They do not need to know my life story, Sylar!” Parkman growled, then paced over the crime scene. “What are you going to do now? They’ve got Matty’s DNA on that! What’s your fucking master plan, Mr. Evil Genius?” 

Sylar winked at Parkman then turned to Reid and Morgan. “Did you call in about the baby wipe?” 

“No, we didn’t have a chance. We were about to when you collapsed,” Morgan answered. “We haven’t officially entered it into the evidence.” 

“Good.” Sylar pulled on all of Parkman’s power, pushing into Reid and Morgan’s minds. It wasn’t easy. They weren’t stupid. They weren’t weak minded either, but Parkman’s ability was amazing when it was used to its full potential. “Give me the baby wipe, and you both forget you ever saw it. You found nothing in the rose bushes.” 

“Oh thank god!” Parkman bent over, clutching his knees and took deep breaths.

“Shame you didn’t have the balls to use it, isn’t it?” Sylar asked Parkman with a sneer. “You are a waste of DNA. I can’t wait to get my body and take this ability from you. So here’s the way it’s going to go, Parkman. We’re going to find someone to take the blame for you, or I make sure they find more evidence to link you to all the murders. I’ll cover your considerable ass as soon as you tell me where my fucking body is.” 

“I don’t know where it is.” Parkman threw up his arms and scrubbed at his haggard face. 

“You’re lying. I might not have my abilities, but I have yours. I know you’re lying. Now tell me the truth, or I make them remember Matty’s little deposit slip.” 

“Nathan Petrelli! Angela made me shove you out of your body. I forced you to think you’re Nathan Petrelli. Your body’s in Washington, DC.” 

Sylar felt his rage roar through Parkman’s body. The heart pounding and beating erratically enough that he was afraid he was going to actually have a heart attack. He knew that if he blacked out that Parkman could take control again. 

“Thank you. I knew you could be reasoned with. We find someone to take the blame for these kills, and then you and I are going to Washington. I want my body back.”


	3. 3

It was late when Sylar finally managed to escape from the clutches of the BAU team. He’d spent hours back at the station, being forced to listen while Parkman bitched and moaned about not having control of his body. Sylar hated the interruptions because he was finding the Behavioral Analysis Unit fascinating. Each member of the team fit like the finished works of a fine timepiece. They were flawless and relentless in their search for the UNSUB. 

“They would have caught me if the Company hadn’t shut down the original FBI team. If Hansen had asked for the BAU, I’d have been locked up a long time ago.” He leaned back in the driver’s seat of Parkman’s ugly car and sipped his mocha with two extra shots of espresso to make sure he stayed wide awake and in control of Parkman’s body. His hands were shaking as he turned up the stereo.

“It won’t work. I’m tired, and you’re going to fall asleep. When you do, I’ll take my body back. Then what are you going to do, asshole?” Parkman asked from the passenger seat with a smug look on his face.

“Laugh when they arrest you for murder.” Sylar’s face was just as smug. “You can’t get out of this without my help, so shut up, hang on and enjoy the ride.” 

“So what is your master plan then, Dr. Evil?” Parkman folded his arms across his chest and glared out the window as Sylar drove. “Where are we going now?” 

“You don’t really want to know that, do you?” Sylar asked as he drove the car onto the freeway, heading North on the 5. “You can’t claim plausible deniability if you know too much. I mean can you be an accessory to murders committed by your body?” 

“You’re giving me a headache.” 

“Good.” Sylar turned the stereo up a few more notches as they sped through the night.

***  
“You can’t possibly think that Parkman had anything to do with this,” Morgan looked incredulously at Hotchner. “The guy’s not a great cop, but there’s no way in hell he’s sneaky enough to be a serial killer. He passed out on us at the crime scene today.”

“It’s true,” Reid popped in. “He’s not in the best physical shape. According to his coworkers he’s been in a twelve step program.” The youngest member of the BAU did his best not to finger the chip in his pocket that marked his two years of being clean. “But no one knows what he’s given up, not even his partner knows.” 

“He’s new to this division though, isn’t he?” Hotchner reminded them. “He has a spotty record both with LAPD and NYPD. With the files that Garcia sent us, I don’t know how the hell he got a job with the department at all. The infractions are numerous from insubordination, attacking a superior officer.” 

“I’d be a suspect if that was a requirement, Hotch,” Morgan said with a grin. “I’m a trouble maker too.” 

“There’s something off about Parkman. He’s had some very strong reactions to the evidence. He’s been seen having conversations with himself on multiple occasions. I think we need to keep him on the list. He fits the physical profile, and he knew victim number three,” Reid continued. 

“But he didn’t know the others,” Morgan insisted. 

“That’s part of the point,” Reid insisted. “The other victims don’t connect to each other at all.” 

“Yes they do!” They turned to the open laptop where Penelope Garcia was talking into her web cam. “I found out all of the other victims had been arrested by Matt Parkman and his original partner Tom McHenry. Wait that’s not all.”

“What else you got for us, baby girl,” Morgan asked with a bright smile. 

“Tom McHenry had an affair with Janice Parkman, and there was a question of the baby’s paternity.” 

“Looks like we need to pay McHenry a visit.” Morgan pulled the keys out of his pocket and looked over at Reid. 

***  
“What a minute.” Parkman sat up suddenly wide awake in the passenger seat. “I know where we’re going. This is where Tom lives. What the fuck are we doing here?” 

“We need someone to take the fall for us, Parkman. Who deserves it more than the fucker who boned your wife?” Sylar gave Parkman a huge smile, and took the next exit, heading for Tom McHenry’s house. 

“But you said Tom was dead.” 

“I lied. Try not to be surprised.” 

Parkman wanted to protest. He wanted to tell Sylar that it was wrong. Tell him that setting up an innocent man was a travesty of justice, but he couldn’t do it. Matty might be his kid, but in the end, the bastard had slept with his wife. 

“Wait?” Sylar turned down the stereo when they pulled into the residential neighborhood, his dark eyes scanning the house numbers. “No protests? Not going to call me a heartless bastard?” 

“No. No protests. If anyone deserves this, other than you, it’s Tom. He’s got this coming to him.” 

“See. I knew we could come to an understanding.” Sylar parked in Tom’s driveway, and climbed out of the car. He checked his reflection in the window and frowned when Parkman’s face looked back at him. “So no giving me any shit in there. We use your power. We make him our little puppet, doing what you couldn’t do to me, and then you get off scot free. Understand.” 

“Yeah I understand, but don’t you think it’d be better if I did the talking? I know him better than you do.” 

“Nice try. I know what you do. I have access to your memories. Been playing connect the dots when I was bored which means I’ve had oodles of time to perfect my skills. I know all about Tommy boy.” Sylar knocked on Tom’s door. Two quick raps like they were taught in the police academy designed to make drug dealers and other criminals jump like rats when they heard the sound. 

“Parkman?” Tom looked at him and took a step back, then opened the door to let him inside. “What the hell, buddy? It’s been forever. Can I get you a beer? The game’s just starting. Take a load off, we can watch it together.”

“Shut up!” Sylar and Parkman said it in unison while Sylar shut and locked the door. “We need to talk, Tom. Sit down.”

“What the hell, Parkman. You want to get into with me again? Aren’t we done with this yet?’ Tom balked turning to look at Parkman like he’d grown another head.

“Not by a long shot,” Sylar answered for Parkman, stalking toward Tom and shoved him. The other man fell back onto the sofa. Tom tried to move, but before he could Parkman’s power washed over him. Sylar smiled as he forced their combined will on man, making his eyes roll back in his head. “Enjoy the show, Parkman. This is how you should be using your power.” 

“Jesus, Sylar, don’t kill him! Let him breathe!” Parkman shouted. 

“I know what I’m doing, Parkman.” He stepped between Tom’s legs and put his hand on the cop’s forehead. “Let me show you what you’ve done, Tom. You’ve been a very, very bad man, all those innocent people and all that blood on your hands, all because you wanted to set up Parkman and have Janice for yourself.” 

Parkman felt like he was going to be sick as Sylar opened the floodgates, letting him see the memories of the murders he’d committed while wearing his skin. He had to turn away as the blood splattered over his body, and behind him he could hear Sylar chuckle while Tom whimpered as Sylar forced the memories into the man’s head. 

“Saved the best for last, Parkman. Those others were just for fun and games.” Parkman felt his skin crawl when Sylar smiled at him with far too many teeth. “Let’s watch what you did to Roy.” 

***  
“Mr. Parkman, it’s great to see you,” Roy said with a big grin, holding his door open. “I didn’t know you knew where I lived.” 

“Yeah I’m kind of amazing that way.” Sylar stepped into the cluttered house, noting the signs of single surfer living at its finest from the empty pizza boxes stacked on the kitchen counter to the bin full of recyclables that was fifty/fifty beer cans and Diet Coke. “Being a cop, I can find just about anyone. So are your roommates home, Roy?” 

“Nope, I’m all alone.” 

“Good,” Sylar said as he scouted the room for a useful weapon, settling on the aluminum baseball bat leaning near the unused fireplace. “This’ll do nicely. Batter up!” 

The bat hit Roy below his left eye, cracking his cheek, splitting the skin and sending out a spray of blood. Sylar laughed when Roy clutched at his face and fell to his knees, blood seeping from between his fingers. Before the kid could ask what was going on or beg for mercy, he brought the bat down again, catching his wrist and snapping the bone. Another swing and he shattered Roy’s jaw. The boy went down, writhing in pain as he tried to crawl to safety.

“No, no, no getting away.” Sylar took the bat to Roy’s knees and elbows, and then took one final swing at the back of his skull. “Guess what Roy? I know where you fucking die too.” 

***  
“Oh god, Sylar. Fuck.” Parkman was reeling, while Tom stared into space a thick trail of drool running from the corner of his mouth. 

“Why did you do it, Tom?” Sylar grabbed Tom by the front of his shirt, yanking him off of the couch and shoved him into the sliding glass door that rattled in its frame. “Why did you kill Roy?” 

“He wanted Janice!” Tom screamed as he scrambled away from the man he thought was Matt Parkman. He reached for the fireplace poker and charged at Parkman ready to bring the poker down on his head. “I want her. She’s mine!” 

Sylar brought his arm up to block the blow. He howled in pain as the heavy piece of wrought iron smashed into his forearm. He wasn’t sure which he missed more, his telekinesis to stop Tom in his tracks or the regeneration. Tom pulled his arm back to swing again when the door was kicked open, and the members of the BAU came rushing in, guns in hand. 

“Tom McHenry, drop your weapon now,” Morgan said it coolly pointing his gun at the raging cop. “Detective Parkman are you all right?” 

“I am now,” Sylar said, holding his injured arm against his chest as he backed out of the way. “Thank god you showed up.” 

***  
Outside Sylar sat on the tailgate of the paramedic rig while they checked his arm. The bruise was spreading already, and would be a nice shade of black by morning. He flexed Parkman’s fingers as instructed to make sure they worked properly.

“You’re lucky that’s not broken,” Reid said, as he watched them bandage Parkman’s arm. 

“I’m lucky about a lot of things tonight.” Sylar smirked at Parkman who was watching while they forced Tom into the back of a squad car. “Thanks for all your help, Dr. Reid. You saved my life.”


End file.
